


Stormlight Can't Heal Everything

by DragonBandit



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Gen, Healing, Mild Oathbringer spoilers, No explicit medical scenes, Surgery, mentoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:02:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25581034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonBandit/pseuds/DragonBandit
Summary: The boy was hovering outside Lirin’s office again. Lirin ignored him, as he had for the last several days since moving to UrithiruRenarin asks another dark eyes to teach him what the lighteyes refuse to.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	Stormlight Can't Heal Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Not Betaed. Barely edited. Any mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Very brief passing mention of canon-typical ableism.

The boy was hovering outside Lirin’s office again. Lirin ignored him, as he had for the last several days since moving to Urithiru. Kaladin had finally strong-armed him into leaving Hearthstone to come to the fortress, mostly by persuading the rest of Hearthstone to come to Urithiru and expecting Lirin to follow with his charges. Of course it had worked. At one time Lirin would have been amused at his sons ability to manipulate him as he had. Now, it was yet another sign that Kaladin was no longer the son that Lirin remembered before he had gone off to fight for glory. It had been a good choice in the end. Hesina and the baby were safe in Urithiru’s solid walls, and there were more than enough people for Lirin to look after thanks to the desolation. Or thanks to Kaladin. The boy had insisted that Lirin would be the only surgeon to work on him the rare times he needed a surgeon at all, and the members of the other Bridge Crews—whatever those were—had followed, much to the consternation of the real surgeons from Kharbranth. 

Since Lirin was tending to all of the Windrunners, and a few of the regular soldiers as well, not to mention Hearthstone and even a few Light-eyed princes, Lirin had been given his own separate surgery room. Close enough to the Kharbranthian medics, but distinctly kept separate. 

The boy was still standing there several hours later. Lirin noticed him in passing, busy making more bandages and taking stock of his rapidly dwindling supplies. That was what a war did, even with the support of other nations and their protected position in the mountains. He was light-eyed, Alethi by his skin tone, mixed blood by the blond streaks through black hair, about Kaladin’s age, or maybe Tien’s if he hadn’t… The boy was Kholin, judging by the blue uniform, and more disconcertingly had the familiar patch of Bridge Four sewn onto his sleeve. Another one of Kaladin’s strays then, despite being a light eyes. The world had changed in the past two years. 

“Well what is it?” Lirin asked, when the boy had started to shift absently from one foot to the other. “If you’re waiting for Kaladin he won’t come today. He’s on a mission with some of the other knights. The girl, Brightness Davar. He won’t be back for some time.” 

“I know,” The boy said. His voice had a startlingly familiar lilt to it but Lirin couldn’t place it. He had started at Lirin’s words, but it didn’t take him long to adopt his soldiers pose once again when Lirin set his eyes on him. “I’m not here to wait for Kaladin. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Then you’ve accomplished your goal. Well done.” 

The boy blinked at him, uncomprehending. 

Lirin sighed. A light-eyes with no concept of wit. That was either a good thing or a terrible one. “Well out with it then. What is it?” Lirin said. 

“You’re a surgeon,” the boy said. 

“I am.” 

“I need you to teach me how to be a surgeon.” The boy blinked, too rapid, and continued with only the barest pause for breath. “Please.”

The please was unusual, and it was what made Lirin open his mouth and ask, “Why do you want to learn how to be a surgeon?” 

“Stormlight can’t heal everything.” The boy said. 

Comprehending dawned. “You’re a Radiant.” Lirin said. He thought he had met most of them thanks to Kaladin bringing them around every so often to show Lirin off. Not that his son would ever admit to anyone that was what he was doing. Apparently he had missed one of them. 

The boy jerked a nod. “I’m a Truthwatcher. Sort of. We heal, but sometimes stormlight can’t heal everything, if the wound is too old or—or something similar, we don’t know how it works yet. And sometimes I don’t have the stormlight I need, or I need it to lightweave instead or keeping the light in a sphere is too important. When that happens I don’t want to watch someone die in front of me because I couldn’t save them. So I need to know how to be a surgeon. I need to know how to heal without the stormlight helping me.”

Lirin put down the bandages.

“Why come to me? There’s a whole hall of surgeons who would be more than happy to take you under their wing. With much more training than me. I’m a simple country doctor. Before today most of my work was farming accidents.” 

“I think you’re overestimating how willing they’d be to teach me.”

“You’re a Knight Radiant. I’m sure that you could order them even if your eyes didn’t do the trick.”

The boy squirmed, rocking back on his heels. 

“Just tell me. Storms boy, I’m not going to bite your head off if you speak out of turn.” 

“There’s another reason I want you to be the one to train me. You’re Kaladin’s father.” 

Of course. Being father to the Captain of the Windrunners had made Lirin’s life much more complicated recently. “Did Kaladin put you up to this?” 

“No. He doesn’t know I’m here.” 

Lirin raised an eyebrow. “He doesn’t.”

“No one knows that I’m here.” 

Then despite the uniform, this wasn’t a request of Kaladin’s except implicitly, and Lirin was sure that the boy hadn’t meant to make that request despite wearing his uniform to talk to Lirin. The Kholin soldiers were more likely to keep in their blues than the soldiers from other Princedoms, and even now supplies were thin even for light-eyes. 

Lirin had a choice then, a rare thing when dealing with Alethi nobility. There was a logic to the boy’s argument, but Lirin was tired of Light-eyes and their schemes involving his family. The diamond chips illuminating the room were a warning that Lirin was loath to avoid. 

“I’m sorry. I’m not a teacher. If you want training, go to the Kharbranthian’s and ask them to teach you surgery. I’m too busy to take on any pupils.” With a final dismissal, Lirin turned back to his work. Out of the corner of his eye he watched the boy’s boots. Good quality leather, dark brown, hadn’t seen as much rough handling as they should have for a soldier. 

“No.” The boy said. 

Lirin’s shoulders dropped in a sigh. “Unless you order me, Brightlord, I really must insist that you go to the people who have the time and inclination to teach new students from scratch.” 

There was a subtle flinch as he said the word Brightlord, no doubt because Lirin hadn’t quite managed to keep the venom out of his voice. And yet, still, the boy continued to stand there. 

“I won’t order you,” he said, “That would be wrong of me. But, you don’t understand. I can’t go to the Kharbranthian surgeons. They think I’m a halfwit, no good for anything and they would send me to do busy work that sounded important but didn’t let me learn anything useful to placate me and keep me out of the way. I don’t want that, I need to be useful. I need to actually learn, and I need to learn quickly. You’ll teach me. You won’t treat me as a spoiled light-eyed prince. You’ll put me to work, and I need to be put to work. Please. Teach me.” 

Lirin looked up from his work once again. He stared into eyes that were wide open in earnesty, and that didn’t quite manage to reach Lirn’s own gaze. So similar to other loved ones in Lirin’s life. The boy had chewed his lower lip, and while his feet were placed flat on the floor in a soldiers pose, he rocked subtly back and forth on his heels. 

“What’s your name?”

“Renarin Kholin.” 

Storms. This wasn’t just a light-eyes. This was the cousin of the king. How on Roshar had Kaladin ended up adopting this one? 

“Surgery isn’t a game,” Lirin found himself saying. “If I agree to teach you I’ll work you to the bone. You won’t be able to duck out of duties and wave me away. You will listen to my every word, and do exactly what I say. If you don’t, you’ll be out on your ear and the next time you’ll be in my surgery will be when you’re bleeding yourself. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” The hope from Renarin’s voice was enough to make the light from Lirin’s sphere’s glow. He was sure it was his imagination, but it was hard to tell with storming Knights Radiant. 

It was settled then. Lirin had a new apprentice. He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Well then, what do you know of anatomy?” 

“Enough to kill someone,” was the prompt reply, “I’ve been learning how to be a soldier for half my life.”

“Killing is different than healing.” Lirin said. He pulled a book down from a shelf, and handed it to Renarin. “Ask a scribe to read that to you. Make sure to look at the pictures. I’ll quiz you on the first chapter when you next visit. Can you be here tomorrow? After your training with Bridge Four?”

“I can.” Renarin had already opened the book, and his eyes scanned across the page. It wasn’t opened to one with a picture on it. Was the boy reading? Yet another oddity to add the the puzzle that was Lirin’s new apprentice. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me yet,” Lirin said, “I haven’t made up my mind on you just yet. I’ll see how good you are as an assistant before I fully agree to teach you.” 

The light didn’t dim from Renarin’s eyes. “I won’t disappoint you.” 

Lirin kept his mouth shut. Only time would tell if Renarin was able to keep that promise. Lirin had trained many hopeful medics in his time, and many had failed through no fault of their own. Tien had been afraid of blood, Kaladin had become a soldier, Grer’s father had wanted him back on the farm before Lirin could make use of him. Hesina was busy looking after their youngest, and some of the other children that had arrived at Urithiru, Tirana was Lirin’s only full helper these days. 

He would see how Renarin fared. If he was lucky, it wouldn’t be for long. Earnest or not, he was still a spoiled light-eyed prince. Lirin doubted that he would last when confronted with the reality of the surgery.

The boy was still standing there, at parade rest. Lirin sighed. “You’re dismissed, soldier. You don’t need to wait for me to tell you to leave.” 

Renarin blushed, but jerked a nod, and finally left Lirin’s sight. 

Lirin rubbed the bridge of his nose, another sigh as he realised that if he wanted to get home before Hesina went out looking for him, he would have to cut his usual rounds short. Twenty hours in a day and night, and still not enough time for Lirin to do everything he needed. But such was the way of life, and complaining about it would waste even more time. And with that thought, he retrieved his spheres and used them to light the ward of his resting patients. Most of them were Kaladin’s strays. With one more round, he made sure no one needed his immediate attention before he went home. 

As he did, he thought more of the soldier that he would now have to teach. The ones in the southern part of the ward. Yes, their injuries would suit an apprentice surgeon nicely… 


End file.
